iNCaNTaTioN
by rudolphtherednoseddolly
Summary: Ron and Hermione enter into a contest. First to come up with a brand-new spell wins a 100 galleons! But when Ron's spell causes him to become a girl, chaos ensues...Please R&R!
1. Name that Spell

**iNCaNTaTioN**

**Chappie Numero Uno**

**By RudolphTheRedNosedPuffin**

**Puffins Rock**

_Disclaimer: _sighs Must we do this every time? Oh well, just for the first chappie then. I do not own Harry Potter, the wizarding world, or anything else along the lines. They belong firmly under the name of J. K. Rowling. Too bad. I could have been sitting in a comfortable chair right if I had written the Parry Hotters. Wait. Off-subject. Back to the story.

Ron woke up, noticing the sunlight streaming through the window. Crap! He was going to be late! Again. He shoved on his robes and bounded down the stairs four at a time. When he got to the bottom, he nearly ran Hermione over. He felt his face growing red as he faced her.

"What's the hurry?" she asked.

"I'm late for Transfiguration!" He stopped and frowned. "And so are you!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Ron, today's Saturday. We had Transfiguration yesterday morning." Ron felt his ears turning scarlet.

"I- er- I knew that, I just, er-" Ron fell silent. Hermione was looking pityingly at him. Ron cringed inwardly, hoping he didn't look too stupid. She walked past him and up the staircase, to the sixth year girls' dormitory. Ron's shoulders sagged. He was a total idiot. He walked sulkily over to Harry, who was examining the Gryffindor bulletin board.

"What do you think?" Ron was jolted out of his reverie.

"What?" Ron tried to focus. Harry was pointing to a sign. Ron squinted at it and read,

YOU COULD WIN 100 GALLEONS!

Ron was immediately interested. He read on.

THAT'S RIGHT! THIS SUNDAY, AT THE THREE BROOMSTICKS, HOGSMEADE, THE 455 ANNUAL SPELL-MAKING CONTEST WILL BE HELD. STARTING AT NOON, WHOEVER MAKES THE FIRST BRAND-NEW SPELL WILL WIN A HUNDRED GALLEONS! Note that spells must be undiscovered, and that is anyone who uses a spell that is already discovered will be disqualified. Dangerous spell casters will be fined.

"So, what do you think?"

Ron grinned, all thoughts of Hermione gone. "I'm trying it! How 'bout you?"

"Nah, Ginny and I are spending the day together."

Inwardly, Ron winced. He didn't know why he hated the idea of Harry and Ginny together so much.

All day Ron thought about the contest. A hundred galleons was a lot. And a lot of galleons could impress a lot of people. Harry was walking proof of that, as well as Fred and George. If he could just win...well, things might look up from there.

The next day, Ron was up at five. Just seven more hours, he thought. He lay in his bed until breakfast, thinking of different incantations he could try. Better prepare now, for he was sure to fall to pieces as soon as the competition started.

At breakfast, he was too nervous to notice Hermione muttering different combinations of words under her breath. Finally, Professor McGonagall called for everyone going to Hogsmeade. Ron instantly went numb. The contest was in two hours. Why they have to make it so late in the day is beyond me, thought Ron as he walked down the long path to Hogsmeade. But inside he was panicking. In two hours he would be in the contest! And possibly 100 galleons richer! Harry was with Ginny somewhere, so it was just him and Hermione. Both were silent with their thoughts. Both turned left and walked into the Three Broomsticks at the same time and sat down at a long, white table marked 455th Spell Making Contest. Ron looked at Hermione, perplexed.

"What are you doing here?" Even as he looked at her, he felt his ears turning pink. His insides squirmed when she looked at him.

"I'm here for the contest!"

"Oh, right."

Four butterbeers and a slice of blueberry pie later, the contestants were called. Nervously, Ron sat down next to Hermione. A judge sat in front of them. Sixteen other people were there. Opposite every other person sat a judge, all of whom were looking at their kids intently. Ron and Hermione's judge was a man who looked like he'd rather be punching someone than judging a contest. Ron gulped. Why couldn't they have Dean's judge, an old lady wearing a dress with huge pink flowers?

Nervously Ron looked into his reflection in the mirror behind him. He was really pale. The freckles scattered across his face stood out sharply. He gave a start when a door opened loudly.

Madame Rosmerta came out and stood on a little stool. Ron found himself staring at her. Hermione nudged him in the ribs, hard. Ron rubbed his chest. Hermione had really sharp elbows.

Madame Rosmerta cleared her throat. Ron looked up at her again, but this time kept a wary eye on Hermione.

"As you all know, my pub has been selected this year to host the 455th annual Spell Making Contest! Through this contest, useful spells such as Locomotor have been discovered. Now, it's your turn! From now until midnight, twelve hours in all, you will try to make a new spell. The winner will get 100 galleons and a year's worth of free butterbeers! Any questions?"

A blonde Hufflepuff girl in fifth year raised her hand. "But us Hogwarts students have to be back to the school by six!"

Madame Rosmerta smiled at her. "Not to worry! Professor Dumbledore has given all contestants permission to stay as long as needed! Oh, and refreshments will be provided. Everybody ready?"

All along the line, heads nodded. Madame Rosmerta nodded to each of the judges. Ron's insides went icy. How could he have been stupid enough to enter the contest? He was terrible under pressure. He was probably going to have a total meltdown...

"Well, then, go!"

It took Ron a moment to realize the competition had started. Embarrassed, he picked up his wand and gave it a flick, trying one of the words he had made up. "Drasecona!" Nothing happened. He felt his ears turn pink. He must look really stupid. He tried again.

"Klianto!"

"Shastemas! Hyreanti! Mamamisa! Itraeneo!"

Nothing. However many words he tried, nothing happened. Luckily, no one else was doing very well, either. Hermione was pink in the face as she tried yet another spell. Ron smiled. She looked pretty when she was frustrated. Unconsciously, he gave his wand a flick and said, " 'ermione!"

"What?" asked Hermione, irritated. Then she gasped.

"Ron! You're, you're..."

"What?" asked Ron, nonplussed.

"A girl!" whispered Hermione. She turned him to face the mirror behind them and Ron looked into it. There he was. A girl.


	2. Of Shoes and Feline Parakeets

**iNCaNTaTioN**

**Chappie Numero Dos**

**By RudolphTheRedNosedPuffin**

Ron stared into the mirror. Oh. My. God. Girl. Me. Girl. His train of thought would be permanently disabled. Girl. Woman. Female. Feline. Wait, no, that was a cat. Or a dog. Or a parakeet. Something like that. A color reflected in the mirror caught his eye. He (she?) looked closer. Shoes! And they were really cute shoes, too. He/she felt his/her old tennis shoes, the ones with the flap soles. Must get new shoes. Ron stood up.

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione. Ron looked at her, surprised. He/she had forgotten Hermione was there.

"I've gotta get some new shoes."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "_What _did you say?"

Ron frowned. "I need some new shoes. Look at these!" He held up one of his trainers. "And there's some across the street." He pointed.

Hermione continued to stare at Ron as he/she marched towards the door. A thought hit him/her like a sledgehammer (and a very hard one, too). He/she slowly turned to face Hermione again. "Wait a sec…" he/she murmured. His/her eyes widened. "Oh my God!" Hermione nodded.

"Yes, you're know _thinking_ like a-" Ron cut her off.

"I don't have any money!" he/she wailed. Hermione opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

"Umm…Ron? Yeah, you do."

"What do you mean?"

For an answer, Hermione pointed at one of the contest signs. 100 galleons was written there is bold, black letters. Ron stared at her, looking ecstatic. Hermione jumped when she realized that everyone else in the bar was looking at her, too. Madame Rosmerta came up to her.

"That is Ron?" she asked.

"Y-yeah" stammered Hermione. "Or was."

"What do you mean?"

"He- _changed_ himself. Into a girl. Or at least, he looks like a girl. And went crazy over those shoes across the street."

Madame Rosmerta squinted at the shoes. "The brown sparkly flats?"

"No, the red open-toed platforms."

Madame Rosmerta studied the shoes for a second, and then turned to face Ron. "Yes! He is a girl!" She looked confused. "Or, she is a girl!"

"How could you tell?"

"The shoes! They are very cute! Any girl would want them. So, let me get this straight. This Ron made himself change gender?"

Ron, who was a bit angry about being left out of a conversation about him/her (from now on, he'll just be a him.), piped up. "Yeah. Duh!"

Madame Rosmerta looked at him closely. "Are you sure? What incantation did you use?"

Ron colored slightly. "I, er, I said 'ermione and kinda gave my wand a flick, like this."

"Do you think that that spell would be able to change your gender once again?"

"Er, I dunno. I guess I'll try…" Ron scrunched up his face and said, "'ermione!" and gave his wand a flick. Nothing happened.

"Are you sure of this, Ron."

"Yes!"

Madame Rosmerta sighed. "Very well then. Ron, if that is still your name, you have won the 455th Annual Spell Casters Contest! For this you win 100 galleons and a year's worth of free butterbeers! The rest of you, you may go."

……………………………………………………………………………………………...

_**Does Ron get his shoes?**__**How will Harry react? What bathroom will Ron have to use? Find out in the next chapter of iNCaNTaTioN!**_

_**Toodles!**_

_**Please Review!**_

_**I should stop now… **_


	3. Call Me Tiffany

The walk back to the castle was long and painful

The walk back to the castle was long and painful. Ron (he discovered how plain his name sounded. He needed a new one. Pronto) was constantly falling over in his new three-inch shoes. Hermione snorted.

"Ron, you're a pathetic girl. I can walk in five-inch stilettos. And I'm terrible with shoes!"

Ron (new name! now!) grimaced as he unbalanced yet again.

"Yeah, well, you've had practice!"

Both Hermione and Ron froze.

"What?" asked Hermione.

Ron opened his mouth again, and said, "What happened?" His voice came out high and girly. Hermione laughed.

"Even my voice isn't that high! God, Ron, you are a girl!"

"Well, so are you!" said Ron grumpily.

Finally, Hogwarts came into sight. Whizzing around on brooms were Dean and Seamus.

"Omigod!" said Ron, jumping back into the cover of some trees.

"What?" asked Hermione, perplexed.

"I can't let them see me like this!" he said, gesturing to his shoes, hair, and tight shirt.

"They're going to have to find out sometime!" exclaimed Hermione. "They share a dormitory with you!"

Ron blanched. "Ugh. But I can't share a dormitory with boys! And do you know what will happen if the entire school finds out that I changed gender? I will walk the eternal walk of shame! I don't even know how to get back to normal! What if I'm stuck as the opposite gender forever, forced to inhabit a body that has mutated into something totally beyond my mental limits?"

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Ron? Are you actually…crying?"

Tears were making tracks down Ron's face. "My body has been genetically enhanced without my permission and I can't cry? What kind of sick world is this?"

Hermione was getting more than a little freaked out now. "Ron? Why are you using big words? You never use big words."

Ron turned furiously to Hermione. "So I can't even use the great capacity of my vocabulary because I once did not care to use it? I am limited to a life where I cannot even speak with the freedom of others around me? Why do you hate me so, O world? Why?" Ron turned and fled to the castle, followed by a very frightened and confused Hermione.

Harry was playing with his model snitch when Ron burst into the dormitory, sobbing. Harry missed the snitch and accidentally poked himself in the eye, setting his glasses flying.

"Ow! What the- Ron?" He pushed the glasses back on his face and stared at the uncontrollable Ron.

"Oi! Ron? Are you crying?"

Ron looked up at Harry. "Oh, are you like that, too? Trying to restrict my emotions and thoughts to fit the ever-narrowing image of popularity and what we are supposed to look like? Do you, too, not feel my emotional needs?"

Harry's jaw could have touched the floor. "What the heck's that supposed to mean? And what happened to your hair?"

Hermione ran into the dormitory, panting, and gripped the frame for support. "Oh god, he can run fast. Ron-are you okay?"

Ron brightened instantly. "Hermione! You just gave me a great idea for a new name!"

Harry looked, if possible, even more confused. "New name? Ron, what are you ta-"

Ron cut him off, smiling hugely. "Tiffany! It's perfect! Call me Tiffany from now on!"

"I he bipolar or something?" asked Harry, turning to Hermione, who was holding back laughter.

"Tiffany! Oh, Harry, Ron, er, Tiffany accidentally turned himself into a girl!"

"A girl? How?"

Ron/Tiffany stepped forward. "I'm still here, you know!" he said, outraged. "And besides, all I did was flick my wand and say 'ermione. Then I was genetically and, it seems, mentally enhanced to fit the girl body and brain stages of my age."

Harry's eyes had glazed over. "Ron, do you by any chance speak English?"

"It's Tiffany! And just because your inferior male mind cannot process the many-lettered words in my vocabulary does not mean I do not speak the same language you and I have spoken since infanthood!"

Harry looked totally lost. Tiffany's lip trembled.

"Can you just try and understand me? I have gone through a life-changing experience and no one even listens to me!" Sobbing, Tiffany threw himself down on her bed.

Hermione sighed. "I think Ro-Tiffany has to get used to his new mental status."

Harry nodded slowly. "So do I. McGonagall is less confusing than he is!"

"And will be for a while." said Hermione dryly.


	4. Introducing

clears throat

clears throat

**Presenting**

**iNCaNTaTioN**

**Chappie Numero Cuatro**

**RudolphTheRedNosedPuffin**

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow-"

"Will you shut up?"

Tiffany and Hermione were walking down the Transfiguration corridor. It was 6 o' clock on Saturday morning. Tiffany hadn't slept at all last night, and as a result, looked terrible. He had gotten up early partly to avoid Seamus, Dean, and Neville, and part(most)ly because he wanted to find some beautification spells. Baggy eyelids were _so_ not cool. Hermione had tagged along out of sheer amusement. Besides, it wasn't like she had homework or anything.

Tiffany limped along his stilettos. Overnight, he had discovered just what five inches can do to a pair of feet. But, he persevered. Hermione was surprised. Tiffany's determination must have improved along with everything else. Ron would have given up after five minutes.

Madame Pince greeted Hermione without a break in her daily library-wide shelf check. She pulled down the hundreds of books that had been left so carelessly on random shelves by ignorant students, muttering very fast to herself. "_Magyck: A guide to Wizarding in the early 1100's,_ shelve 124b, number, let me see, oh yes, 61. Hello, Hermione, brought a friend? _Insights, _ooh, someone's been in the restricted section, I must ask Dumbledore about those alarm charms, shelve R3a, number 12…"

Tiffany looked at Hermione, who sighed and led him down an aisle crammed with brightly-colored books.

"Here's the beauty spellbooks, hair over there, nails right here, and fashion at that section in the back."

Tiffany looked piercingly at Hermione. "And you know that how?" he asked, smiling.

Hermione turned a delicate shade of pink and turned to the shelves. Smirking, Tiffany followed her.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Wow, Tiffany, you…you look amazing!"

Tiffany twirled in front of the mirror, fluttering his magically enlarged and thickened eyelashes.

"You think so?"

"Yeah. Too bad no one's going to see it."

Tiffany stopped in mid-twirl.

"What do you mean?"

"You refuse to show your face, remember? Unless you suddenly want everyone in the school to know you accidentally switched gender because of your ineptness at magic?"

Tiffany bit his lip. "So all this was for nothing?"

Hermione shrugged. "I was entertained for four hours, if that counts."

Tiffany smiled. "I guess that counts. Now, what am I going to do? I can't go to class like this tomorrow!"

"I suggest Madame Pomfrey. She's usually really helpful in situations like this."

Tiffany agreed and they were about to exit the library when they heard voices nearing the library. Tiffany paled and froze on the spot. "That's Dean and Seamus! They must have some homework to do…I'm dead!"

Hermione looked at him closely and said, "No, you're not. Just play along with me, and everything will be fine. Come on!"

Hermione and Tiffany were sitting at a table, apparently absorbed in a book when Seamus and Dean entered the library. Seamus took a look at Tiffany and whistled. "Who're you?"

Hermione's jaw had tightened at the wolf whistle. "He- I mean, this is Tiffany. She's my cousin from, uh, America. She's visiting me to see what Britain's like."

"Yeah? Well, she can visit any time she likes. By the way, have you seen Ron?"

"No, I'd check the Quidditch grounds. I haven't seen him for a while."

Seamus and Dean left, and Tiffany let out a long breath. "Whew. Well, that was a really good cover up story, Hermione."

"Yeah," said Hermione, "As long as they don't try to go out with you, it might work."

Tiffany made a face. "Go out with Seamus or Dean? Eew!"

"Well, judging from Seamus' performance, they expect you to hook up with someone."

"What? Not every girl has a boyfriend, you know! I'll just say my boyfriend's back in America."

"I guess that'll work. C'mon, let's go see Madame Pomfrey. She might be able to fix you."

"I'm not broken, you know."

"Broken in the head, I think. Come _on_!"

**Sorry it took so long, major writer's block. Chappie Numero Cinco coming up soon!**


	5. Cupcakes! And, well, flows

drumroll

drumroll

**iNCaNTaTioN**

**Chappie Numero Cinco**

**RudolphTheRedNosedPuffin**

Enjoy!

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ronald…er…"

Tiffany corrected her. "We're going with still calling me a male, but my name as long as I remain this sex in 'Tiffany', if you please. Go on."

Madame Pomfrey nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "As I was saying, Mr., uh, Tiffany, as this is, so far, an unknown spell, I have no idea how to cure you. Experimentation at this point could damage your, er, delicate balance of male and female hormones, and is, I'm sure, illegal in some way or another. What was the incantation that made you go through this change, again? It might help us."

Tiffany turned a light shade of pink. "'Ermione, actually."

Madame Pomfrey poofed up a quill and parchment, and began to scribble furiously. "Yes, go on, wand movement?"

Tiffany flicked his wand, trying to remember how he had done it last time.

Madame Pomfrey nodded absently as she continued writing. "And did you feel the transformation? Nausea, feeling as though someone was molding you like clay?"

"Um, no, actually. I didn't even realize I had, um, well, changed until Hermione showed me a mirror."

"And have you tried to change yourself back, using the same spell and wand movement?"

"Yes, and was, obviously, unsuccessful."

After a couple more minutes of the furious writing and questioning, Madame Pomfrey duplicated the parchment and sent one to all the professors. "Okay, then, Tiffany, Hermione, I'm sure Dumbledore would like to see you now. Off you go. Oh, and the password is 'Raspberry Truffles' this week."

Hermione stared as a piece of parchment floated by, entirely covered in tiny, cramped handwriting.

"Madame Pomfrey, did you know that you could be a reporter? A really good one?" she asked.

Madame Pomfrey beamed. "Do you really think so, dear? I've always wanted to work for the Daily Prophet, you know. Have a chocolate cupcake! With those little rainbow sprinkles, ooh, I love them so much. My specialty! Now, scoot along, don't dally, the Headmaster's waiting."

Giggling, Madame Pomfrey handed Hermione and Tiffany cupcakes and skipped into her office, giddy with happiness.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Well, that was weird. What do you think, Tiffany?"

Tiffany was too busy wolfing his cupcake down to answer. Hermione sighed, then shrugged.

"Some things never change. Come on, let's go see Dumbledore."

..

"Password?"

"Aaaaah!" Tiffany screamed as the gargoyle he had been leaning on started to talk. Hermione clapped her hands to her ringing ears. Merlin, that, uh, boy could _screech._

"Raspberry truffles." she said firmly, leading a sheepish Tiffany into the revolving staircase. When the staircase ended, only a highly polished wooden door stood between Tiffany and his possible liberation. All of a sudden, Tiffany felt a little nervous. No, more than a little. What was wrong with him? His stomach started to hurt unbearably.

"Uh, Hermione?" he asked.

"Yeah?" she asked absentmindedly.

Wave after wave of nausea hit him. Was this normal? Oh, he felt horrible. Why were there stars on the staircase? He felt like he was going too…

"Splurgh!"

Hermione screamed and jumped out of the way.

Crash!

Hermione's jump had sent her tumbling down the staircase. In a few moments, however, she was brought back into view by the revolving stairs. Dazed, she stepped onto the platform again, avoiding the puddle of sick. "Tiffany, are you okay?" she asked, rubbing her knee.

No, Tiffany was not okay. The nausea was coming again, and now he had these enormous cramps in her stomach. "Uuhn…" he groaned.

"Um, well, I guess I can levitate you to Madame Pomfrey again. Oh Merlin, what's the incantation? Accio, no. Locomotor!"

"I'm not a piece of luggage!" protested Tiffany as he was lifted into the air. "I am- splurgh!"

"Aah!" Hermione screamed and jumped out of the way, lurching Tiffany aside and causing him to throw up again, narrowly avoiding Hermione. As it was, some got on her shirt.

"Eew!" she wailed. "Gross!"

"Hospital wing!" yelled Tiffany.

"Right!" said Hermione.

A second passed.

"Go!" Tiffany yelled as he felt more nausea coming on. Hermione bolted down the corridor and back towards the hospital wing, accidentally knocking Tiffany more than a couple times. They crashed through the door just as Madame Pomfrey was changing the sheets of the bed nearest to them. She straightened up, startled.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Tiffany!" gasped Hermione. "She's sick!"

"Sick?" said Madame Pomfrey. "So soon?"

"Well, she started throwing up and getting dizzy and stuff." explained Hermione, still gasping for breath.

In a few quick strides, Madam Pomfrey was next to Tiffany. "Does it hurt anywhere?" she asked.

His face turning greener by the second, Tiffany nodded and gestured to his stomach.

Madame Pomfrey sighed. "I was afraid of this. Hopefully, I am mistaken, but I believe that Tiffany may have, er, started her period."


	6. Tiffany the Bedazzler

**iNCaNTaTioN**

**Chappie Numero Seis**

**RudolhTheRedNosedPuffin**

*clears throat*

This is a tale of a Ron gone wrong-

Tiffany: How dare you? My name is Tiffany! *slaps author*

*rubs cheek*

*decides to start story before audience tramples me*

"What?!" yelped Hermione.

Madame Pomfrey turned pink. "I had a hunch that Tiffany might start. He does have every other physical attribute of a girl, so it makes sense that he start his period, also. I think he got it so bad because of either the fact that his body was just forced to change gender, or that he didn't make a clean change. He still has some attributes of Ron. The boy and girl hormones will have clashed, creating a, er, nasty menstrual period. I think the worst is over now, so you mat leave, but go straight to your common room and have a rest. I will notify Professor Dumbledore myself." She walked briskly away.

Tiffany nodded, happy to have an excuse to stay abed. Shakily he got up and wobbled a bit before Hermione came over and helped, offering a shoulder to lean on.

The smile was mutual.

.~.

"So, Tiffany, what do you think of periods now?"

Tiffany groaned. "They suck. End of discussion."

Hermione smiled. "Really? I was just getting started. What was your opinion before you actually experienced it?"

Tiffany shrugged. "Well…"

"Yes?"

"Well, I always thought it was something that made you stay up all night or something, cause you got really cranky, like when you get no sleep. I thought you used it as an excuse-"

"An excuse?" asked Hermione, pretend-angry and fighting back laughter. "A sleep depriver?"

Tiffany turned red. "Well, you can't blame me! All I knew is that you'd get really cranky every month, and-"

By now, Hermione was laughing too hard to care. "Wow. That's- that's pretty sad, Tiffany.

Ears flaming, Tiffany turned away. Tears pricked at his eyes. _Stupid wild emotions, _he thought.

Wait…what was that? It was his name, called over and over again. Tiffany suddenly felt vulnerable. Where the walls watching him.

"Tiffany! Hermione!"

Harry's voice was clearer now. Oh.

"Harry wants us." said Tiffany.

Suppressing laughter, Hermione got up and followed Tiffany out the door.

Harry was, indeed, standing at the bottom of the girl's staircase, and by the looks of it, he had been standing there a while.

"Finally! R-Tiffany, Quidditch practice stars in ten minutes!"

"Really? But, wait, I can't play! I'm _Tiffany_, remember?

"I know!" said Harry. "But listen. I told Angelina you- um, Ron- would be away for a while, and that you were a pretty good Keep, and Angelina said she'd give you a try, she didn't have time for a full try out."

"Well, let's go!"

.~.

Tiffany stood nervously before his team. Or rather, Ron's team. This team was, at the moment, pretty pissed with Ron.

Angelina sighed and stepped forward. "Okay, Tiffany, show us what you got. Our current Keeper, Ron, has apparently decided to go off on a vacation a week before our biggest game of the season, and we need a replacement. Harry told me that you played Keeper for you team back in America. Here's what we're gonna do: You'll guard the hoops while we take turns shooting. Simple enough. Okay, ready? Go!"

Tiffany kicked off strongly, albeit a bit shakily, on one of the ancient school brooms, and sped off towards the hoops. Some of his old nausea come on. Tiffany swallowed and focused on Katie, who was flying towards him, quaffle in hand. Closer, closer…she released the ball, sending it soaring towards the left ring.

Tiffany was already there. He caught the quaffle, as surprised as Katie was. _What the heck?_ Somehow, he had already know where to go.

Next was Fred. More nausea. Trying to forget that is was his brother he was facing, Tiffany dove towards the right ring just as Fred loosed it. Okay, this was just getting creepy.

The cycle continued. No one could score on him; he was always at the hoop before the quaffle. Only once was he scored on, when Katie and George teamed up to do a spectacular fake. After thirty-seven balls and only the one goal, Angelina blew her whistle and signaled everyone to the ground.

"Well, I think we all know what my answer is going to be. Welcome to the team, Tiffany! Practice is every night except Friday this week in preparation for the match. Tiffany, take the rest of the night off, you've done good. Everyone else, back in the air! I've got this now move I learned…"

Tiffany, glowing, rushed off the field to a waiting Hermione. "I did it!" he crowed.

"Yes, you did. Odd, wasn't it, that you were there _before_ they even threw it?"

"Yeah," said Tiffany. "You noticed it, too? I didn't really have to think; I was just there. It was really weird."

"Weird? Maybe. What I think it is is something I like to call intuition."

"Intuition?" scoffed Tiffany. "Yeah, right."

Hermione shrugged. "Just a hunch. Oh, no. Look who's here."

Tiffany turned to where Hermione was facing and groaned. Clad in green and silver robes, the Slytherin team marched towards them. The scene was made all the more ugly by the sight of Draco Malfoy walking in the midst of them.

The blonde-haired seeker leered at them. "Look! It's the weasel's replacement. He couldn't stand the thought of playing us on Saturday. Oh, well, he was _born in a bin_, if you know what I mean…"

Tiffany's jaw tightened, and he stepped forward. "Is that all you can do, Malfoy? Stand there and throw insults?" he snorted. "I pity the day Slytherin has to play Griffindor with a seeker that's all talk and no game."

Malfoy seemed momentarily at a loss for words. No, he seemed more…dazzled. Uncomfortable, Tiffany beckoned to Hermione and together that walked away.

Tiffany could feel the stares of the entire Slytherin team on his back.


End file.
